


ball and chain

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [189]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Comeplay, Demon Merlin (Merlin), Dubious Consent, Light Bondage, M/M, Marking, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Restraints, Ritual Sex, Sex Magic, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 11:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20470334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: Every year, Arthur performs the necessary ritual to make sure Merlin (and his magic) remain in his life for another 365 days. It's not even about the power anymore, but he can't let Merlin know just how much he cares.Written for Kinkalot 2019 Challenge #2: Restrained.





	ball and chain

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by Margaret Rogerson's _Sorcery of Thorns_, which I highly recommend to everyone if you haven't already read it!
> 
> Please do not repost elsewhere or list my fic on Goodreads (or any other similar spaces).

Arthur’s fingers traced the interlocking scars on Merlin’s shoulder. “Let’s go over the rules again,” he said, settling his weight more firmly into Merlin’s lap. Merlin’s cock was already sheathed inside him, thick and hot, but Arthur never liked to begin without re-stating the terms of their agreement. It was better not to leave these things to chance.

“No claws,” Merlin recited for him at once. His tone was dutiful, but there was a wicked glint in his eyes, which flicked to the chains around his wrists and back again. “No breaking the circle.” The chalk outline gleamed white against the flagstone floor. “And nothing you don’t want.”

“Nothing _we_ don’t want,” Arthur corrected, shifting his hips. His leaking cock grazed Merlin’s belly, and he felt the shudder of Merlin’s thighs in response, heard the high, greedy whine that came from deep in his throat.

“_Arthur_,” Merlin said, chiding but breathless. “I’m a demon. Anything that feeds your lust is fuel for me.”

“I know.” That was how their bargain worked: in exchange for Merlin’s services—and his power—Arthur let him take his body for one night every year, spilling his seed to satisfy the demon’s appetite. “But I’m not going to enjoy this unless you do. So.” He met the sulphurous gaze. “Say it.”

A moment of resistance. Then, uncertainly: “Nothing _we_ don’t want. All right.”

Arthur felt a tiny thrill run through him, then viciously tamped it down before it spread. He was taking enough of a risk already, not just because of what Merlin could do with this concession but because of what it meant. Demons didn’t feel things the way humans did; they didn’t form bonds with their masters, no matter how skilled they were at pretending otherwise, and revealing any sort of weakness in their presence was a good way to get yourself killed. Arthur had come close to it once before, several years ago now, when he’d been desperate enough to try a summoning in order to save his father. He had been so blinded by his grief that he’d forgotten to ward the circle, meaning that he’d been fair game to anything which appeared inside it.

Another demon might have killed him. Merlin had fucked him, held him, and pledged himself to his service, despite the fact that he was not technically required to do so. He’d been a constant presence at Arthur’s side ever since.

“Arthur.” Had he not known better, Arthur might have mistaken the demon’s impatience for something else. “By all the hells, you clotpole, would you _move_.”

Arthur moved—slowly and deliberately, enjoying the way it made Merlin’s head fall back with a sound that, for a demon, amounted to a groan of pleasure. A deep flush travelled up his chest, and Arthur sped up his pace a little, changing the angle so that the head of Merlin’s cock dragged against his rim before sliding back inside. Sparks flared behind his eyelids. There were tiny prickles of Merlin’s magic rushing over his skin, a strange doubling effect taking hold as the feedback loop kicked in.

Gods, he loved this part. Merlin’s body was made for sex, and even tied down and trapped by a layer of protective sigils he was a force to be reckoned with. Arthur arched his back, feeling the burn of Merlin inside him even as he also felt every hitch of Merlin’s hips, the pure, animal joy Merlin took in fucking him. Being so engulfed in Merlin’s magic was intoxicating; although Arthur could draw on the demon’s energy in smaller increments for his daily spells, such workings were remote and spiritless compared to this, when he was directly connected to the well of Merlin’s power. He could feel everything the demon felt: every pulse of his heart, every catch of his breath. The only thing he couldn’t do was come—not until Merlin said so, at least, and sometimes it could take hours before the demon was ready to let him spill.

Magic lapped at his cock. Moaning, Arthur worked it with his fist, straining upwards into an invisible mouth that sucked and licked at the swollen head. Unseen hands plucked at his chest, rolling his nipples into aching buds, and Arthur was certain he felt the mischievous tickle of claws against his neck, the sting of nonexistent teeth at the tendons of his throat. There would be bruises there in the morning, mottled but already fading, and Merlin would stare at them when he thought Arthur wasn’t looking, the tips of his ears turning pink until he forced himself to look away.

“Merlin, _more_,” Arthur growled, grinding down, and Merlin obliged with a huff of laughter, the Moebius loop of pleasure between them doubling and redoubling as Arthur’s senses unravelled.

When he returned to himself, some time afterwards, Arthur was slumped over Merlin’s chest, Merlin’s softening cock still nestled inside him. It was almost morning. Arthur could see the faint outline of basement furniture around them, sunlight filtering through the window as he lazily sketched a rune shape through the mess on Merlin’s belly. Unthinking, he had chosen the one that stood for Merlin’s true name: _Emrys_. Merlin watched him with slitted eyes, and when Arthur pressed a smear of come against his lips, he opened his mouth obediently, flicking his tongue over the pad of Arthur’s thumb to lick it clean.

“God, Merlin,” Arthur whispered, some after-effect of Merlin’s magic catching deep within him. It spread through his chest like melted honey, hot and sweet, and he knew for certain that the ritual had worked; Merlin would be his for another year. “Sometimes I forget how powerful you are.”

Merlin’s eyes glowed up at him, catching the light like a cat's before they shuttered closed.

“I live to serve, master,” he murmured, turning his face away. Sweat gleamed in the hollow of his throat, his lips parting soft and red as Arthur, helpless, leaned in to seal the promise with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments :)


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